Iâm pretty sure Iâm the last one to post for this, and Iâm so sorry it took so long. @thoughtsandlife23, Iâm your Valentine!!! You requested:Â â maybe a mention of mick x Amaya. Also please keep Laurel Aliveâ, and I hope this makes you happy. I meant for Mixen to have a larger role, but the story sort of ran away from me. I also meant for this to have two chapters, at least.
This story sort of took on a life of its own.
Anyway, this is an AU, where the Gambit never sank, and Leonard never became a criminal.
Happy Valentineâs Day!!!
Summary: Captain Canary AU. Saraâs searching for direction after her life is turned upside down. Will the little diner in Central City be exactly what she needs?
Disclaimer: I own nothing,Â
âYour sister will never know,â Ollie had promised, smooth and reassuring.
Unfortunately, he couldnât have been more wrong.
Now, everyone knows, thanks to the horde of reporters that had been waiting for them when the Gambit docked.
Sara isnât quite sure how they knew where to look, but it doesnât really matter, because the damage is done.
Her father hasnât looked her in the eye since she got back.
Not even a single friend of hers will pick up the phone.
She canât even step outside without a cacophony of âWhy did you do it?â and âHow do you feel, knowing you ruined Oliver Queenâs relationship with your sister?â
Most days, she doesnât even try to leave the house, just locks herself in her room, watching movies and eating ice cream.
Sheâs apologized to Laurel a thousand times, but to no avail. Not like she doesnât understand why, but the thought of living the rest of her life without Laurel-Her stomach churns, rebelling at the very idea.
By the end of three weeks, the walls seem to suffocate her, floral wallpaper staring back at her mockingly.
Briefly, she wonders if Oliver is just as miserable.
Probably not, she decides.
Most likely, he already has another girl on his arm, and the sister for backup.
Yep, she definitely isnât bitter.
She shouldnât be, anyway; It was her choice as much as his. Still, she canât help but hate him a little. In fairness, she hates herself just as much, so she figures it works out.
A knock on her door draws her from her thoughts, and she pauses â10 Things I Hate About You,â wiping away the tears that seem to constantly burn her eyes these days.
A small, childish part of her hopes to see Laurel, poking her head through the doorway, ready to forgive her and gossip about boys again.
Of course, life doesnât work that way, and itâs Saraâs mother that steps inside.
âSara, darling⌠We need to talk.â
Memories burn at her mind, of her dad saying the exact same words, disappointment coating his face. That was the only time heâd spoken more than three words to her since the whole ordeal: To tell her how disappointed he was in her for âGetting involved with that Queen boy. Honey, you broke your sisterâs heart. Mine, too.â
She canât take another speech like that, and she knows it. Still, she forces out a response.
Biting her lip, her mother steps forward, settling onto the bed beside her.
âI have a new job.â Of all the things she could have expected, this definitely wasnât even in the top ten.
âAs a teacher at Central City University.â
Sara frowns, struggling to find her bearings in this conversation.
Hands clasping tightly together.
She knows her motherâs tells, and something is very wrong.
âSweetheart⌠Iâm moving. Your father, and Laurel⌠Theyâre staying here.â
She canât breathe. It hasnât escaped her notice that things have been tense between her parents lately, especially since her father found out about her stop by the house, when her mother had found out everything. StillâŚ. It isnât supposed to happen this way.
She canât have ruined everything that badly.
âYou and Daddy areâŚâ Her voice sounds terribly young and helpless, even to her own ears, and she hates it, but it definitely reflects how she feels.
âWorking things out,â her mother interrupts firmly, reaching out and squeezing Saraâs arm. Thereâs something oddly comforting about the small gesture, as if the touch alone could chase away the nightmare sheâs created. âWe just⌠We need some space, and time, to do that.â
What about me? Sara wonders, but the words stick in her throat.
The answer comes quickly enough anyway.
âWeâve talked it over, and weâve decided that youâre free to do whatever you want. If you like, you can stay here with Quinten and Laurel. But if you choose, you can come live with me in Central City.â
Stay in the crushingly silent house that will only grow worse without her mother there to talk to her, or get away from it all?
It would be a lie to say she spends the first month doing much of anything but sleeping. In ways, it isnât so different from what she was doing in Starling, but she doesnât have to worry about running into Laurel on her way to the shower, or her father over breakfast.
Sometimes, she lets herself linger at the table, even eating meals with her mother when she gets the chance.
Thereâs something peaceful about Central, nothing she can put her finger on, but itâs slowly healing the ache in her heart.
One day, she steps outside, and when nothing happens, she goes for a walk. Just around the block, that day, basking in the fresh air and sunshine sheâs hidden from since⌠Well. Since.
The walks become a daily thing, venturing farther and farther from the little apartment her mother rented, while the woman in question is at work.
Sheâs getting better, and she knows it.
It starts out like any other day, exploring the city she now calls home.
Sheâs in a new neighborhood, one a little run-down, but still bustling with life. (So unlike the Glades, she canât help but think. Children play on the streets without fear, and one shoots her a wild grin, waving cheerfully before returning to a game of tag.)
Everything is so peaceful, she almost doesnât notice the women staring.
There are three of them, standing in the doorway of what looks like a convenience store, pointing at her and whispering among themselves.
Panic bubbles up in her chest. She knows those looks; they recognize her, or theyâre starting to, and soon, sheâll have to face a barrage of questions she doesnât even want to think about.
She glances around, searching desperately for some sort of haven, and her eyes settle on a building to her right. The sign, claiming it as âLennyâs Burgers,â is worn and faded, the paint is peeling, and the neon âOpenâ sign flickers weakly, looking no more than a few seconds from burning out entirely.
Not letting herself overthink it, she yanks the door open, disappearing into the shop.
The seats are all empty, and thereâs no one at the counter. Briefly, she wonders if the place is even actually open, or if no one thought to lock it when they shut down.
In the 50s, most likely, she muses, amusement flickering through her without consent. The checker-tiled floor, the red-cushioned stools, and the wooden counter all look like something out of an old movie. The jukebox in the corner, crooning out an unfamiliar song, doesnât help the ancient vibe.
She settles into a booth, probably red once, but now faded to almost white, and glances out the window.
Apparently, the women werenât interested enough to follow.
Her eyes drift shut as she exhales, taking a few steadying breaths.
âHey, can I get you anything?â An unfamiliar voice asks, a tinge of concern in the tone.
Opening her eyes, she turns to the new figure: A waitress, if her outfit is anything to go by. She has long, dark hair, curious eyes, and a bright smile.
Ollie would love her, she thinks dryly.
âGet me..? Oh, right. I⌠I havenât actually looked at the menu,â she confesses, and the other woman-Lisa, according to the plastic nametag-nods in understanding.
âThatâs fine! Can I get you something to drink?â
Sara hesitates, considering. If sheâs hiding out in the shop, the least she could do is actually get something.
âIâll take a water,â she finally answers, and Lisa grins.
âComing right up! And listen, I donât know if youâre hungry, but I would definitely recommend a hamburger. I know itâs kind of clichĂŠ, but theyâre Mickâs pride and joy in life. Our cook,â she adds, at Saraâs apparent confusion.
Stomach rumbling, Sara nods gratefully. She hadnât actually realized she was hungry until now, but suddenly, she feels like she could finish off an entire Queen partyâs worth of food.
With one more grin, Lisa disappears back behind the counter, and Sara drops her face to her hands with a groan.
The womenâs faces are burned in her mind, mocking her and taunting her without pity.
Itâs like ripping off a scab too soon, the way all of the pain, the guilt, and the regret is bursting back to the surface.
All she can think of now is Laurel, tears in her eyes, asking her why. Why would you do this to me, Sara? Why? I thought we were family.
âExcuse me, I hope Iâm not interrupting,â an unfamiliar voice drawls, from somewhere near her head. A man, for sure, and she really isnât up for this.
âIâm not interested,â she growls, without bothering to lift her head.
Thereâs a definite pause, before the man speaks again, amusement coloring his tone.
âWell, thatâs good. I try not to get involved with customers, after all. Never really ends well.â
It takes her a moment to process the words, but when she does, she can feel the flush creeping up her cheeks.
âSorry,â she mutters, lifting her head.
Settled into the booth across from her is a man with short, dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a playful smirk. His hands rest lightly on a mug he must have brought to the table.
âNothing to be sorry about,â he says, waving a hand dismissively.
Heâs older than her, she realizes, noting the faint hints of grey in his hair. Still, she canât deny that heâs cute, and any other day, she might have enjoyed the conversation. Today⌠She honestly just wants him to leave.
She clears her throat, tilting her head to the side, silently willing him to explain. His smirk fades to a soft but genuine smile, and he pushes the mug towards her.
âLisa told me about you. Said you looked like you were having a rough day.â Defensiveness rises up in her, but before she can tell him to mind his own business, something sad flickers in his eyes, and he continues, âLisa and I have had a few of those ourselves. And weâve learned something important.â
If she has to listen to one more âhelpful life lessonââŚ
âThereâs absolutely nothing that canât be solved with hot cocoa.â The sadness is gone, replaced with an almost teasing expression, and she canât help but smile in return.
âNothing?â She challenges, glancing down at the swirling liquid. The dark brown was muted with something white and fluffy, and she snorts in surprise.
âAre those⌠Mini-marshmallows?â
He nods, face turning grave.
âCocoa isnât cocoa without the mini-marshmallows.â He looks so ridiculously serious, a giggle bubbles up and escapes before she can stop it. He feigns a glare, but she notices the sparkle in his eyes that almost resembles pride.
âSo, cocoa can fix anything?â She checks, and he nods. âOkay then.â
She lifts the mug to her lips, (itâs still warm, heat spreading through her fingertips, chasing away the chill of the autumn day,) taking a tentative sip.
Itâs sweet, even more than she expects, and a perfect blend of cocoa, marshmallow, and something unidentifiable the makes her eyes drift shut.
âSee? All better,â the man announces, and she blinks, focusing on him once more.
He looks childishly smug, and in spite of herself, she grins at him.
âDefinitely,â she quips, before a thought occurs to her. âHow did you even have time to make that?â
Shrugging, he replies. âA good chef never revels his secrets.â
âI thought that was a magician,â she shoots back, struggling to keep from laughing.
She rolls her eyes, taking another sip of the (sweet, wonderful, heavenly) cocoa.
âIâm Leonard, by the way,â he says after a moment. âOr as my wonderful sister insists on calling me, Lenny.â
He doesnât just work here, she realizes. Heâs the owner.
âIâmâŚâ She hesitates. He hasnât shown a hint of recognition, and even now, he seems to be waiting for her to speak. He doesnât know who she is, and somehow, she doesnât want him to tie her to âSara Lance, Oliver Queenâs other woman.â Still, the truth slips out without her consent.
âIâm Sara.â If he recognizes her, he doesnât show it, just nods, tilting his head in greeting.
âSara, pleasure to meet you. Afraid I have to be getting back to work.â
âYeah,â Lisa teases, stepping around Leonard with a glass of water in one hand and a tray of food in the other. Sara congratulates herself for not jumping, as the woman continues, âYou probably should. Otherwise, the boss might fire you. Heâs kind of a jerk.â
âTo be fair,â he shoots back, âhis top waitress is kind of a trainwreck.â They share a fond smile, and Saraâs heart tugs with memories of Laurel.
Pulling each otherâs hair, stealing each otherâs clothes, and coming up with the meanest names they possibly could, just to burst into laughter and hugs.
âLisa, get her whatever she wants. Today, itâs on the house.â She pulls herself from her thoughts, frowning.
âNo, I couldnât-â He brushes her off.
âI mean it, Sara. Like I said, Lisa and I had a few rough days of our own. If it hadnât been for a few generous people, weâd be in a very different place right now. Â Itâs our turn to pass that on.â
With a final nod, he disappears into the back, and Lisa grins.
âCan I get you anything else?â
She comes back, of course.
Thereâs something about the worn down shop that seems like home, and when sheâs there, she isnât lonely. Leonard, Lisa, and eventually Mick always take a little time to chat with her when she comes in, and slowly, they let her into their little family.
They do charge her for her meals after that first day, but anytime Sara walks in with her head hung low and her eyes watering, Leonard appears with a mug of hot cocoa he refuses to let her pay for.
Weeks turn into a month, and her visits start to become a daily thing.
She knows they consider her one of their own.
Still, the job offer comes as a surprise.
âWeâre looking for an extra set of hands,â Leonard announces one day, before Lisa even takes her order. âYou interested?â
She glances around the diner uncertainly. Itâs just after noon, their busiest hour, and there are exactly three people there besides her: An older man, sipping coffee and reading a paper, a younger woman, sitting next to him with her own coffee, looking at her phone, and a tall, slim man a few booths over that looks unnervingly familiar. Finally, Sara places him: Ray Palmer, owner of Palmer Tech. Heâs a billionaire, like Oliver, but not much of a playboy. Recently widowed, if she remembers right.
She wonders, not for the first time, how they even keep their doors open.
Leonard follows her gaze, and chuckles.
âGranted, we wouldnât be able to pay you much, but⌠Lisa could use the help.â The younger sibling rolls her eyes, stepping between him and Sara.
âAnd the company.â Lisa adds, squeezing Saraâs shoulder.
Sara hesitates a moment, but canât find it in her to refuse.
âItâs been awhile, Professor! Whereâs Lily?â
Itâs-though she canât believe it-two months later.
Working with them is, without a doubt, the best job sheâs ever had. Low stress, high energy, and a close connection with employees and customers alike.
âA bit ill, Iâm afraid,â Professor Stein answers, drawing her from her thoughts.
âOh, no!â As a bartender, she learned how to feign sympathy, but her concern here is sincere. Lily is bright, cheerful, and friendly, even as she discusses things miles above Saraâs head.
âOnly a twenty-four hour virus, or so she insists. Refuses to go to a doctor about it, of course.â Her father, Martin Stein, is one of Saraâs motherâs colleagues. He reminds Sara a bit of the Absent-Minded Professor, and something tells her heâd like the comparison. âShe has a bit of a stubborn streak. Gets it from her mother, Iâm sure.â
She hides a smile. She has seen him arguing before, after all.
âOf course. Well, I hope she gets to feeling better! What can I get you? Your usual?â
âIf you please, Miss Lance,â he nods.
Grinning, she disappears back into the kitchen.
âMick, the Professor is here,â she announces.
âCominâ right up.â His voice is heavy with disgust. Stein always orders his burger on wheat bread, and Mick doesnât really think that counts as a burger.
The cook is a unique sort, she has to admit.
Mick reminds her, in ways, of a teddy bear. Just⌠An occasionally grumpy teddy bear.
âDonât worry, Mick, Iâm sure Amaya will come by later, and order a real burger,â Leonardâs familiar drawl cuts in.
âShe better,â Mick grumbles, setting to work.
âOr what, Micky?â Lisa teases, appearing from the backroom with a mug of coffee and a grin.
Sara steps back as the two settle into their bickering, shooting Leonard an amused glance he returns.
âI think they need a time-out,â she quips, and he scoffs.
âWouldnât do them a bit of good, Iâm afraid.â
A warmth spreads through her, and she leans next to him, against the wall.
Sheâs happy, she thinks, a touch curiously. She likes that.
No matter how hard you stare at it, you canât will a phone to ring, Sara muses.
Sheâs been sitting in the office, tucked away in the back, for nearly half an hour, trying to work up the courage to call Laurel.
Where does she even start?
Iâm sorry I ruined your life. Want to have dinner sometime and catch up?
She scoffs, her fingers dancing over the keyboard.
This is ridiculous, and her shift starts in-she glances at the wall clock-ten minutes.
âEverything okay?â Sometimes, she wonders at how he sneaks up on her so easily.
She used to pretend she was a ninja, hiding behind the couch, jumping out to scare her parents. The memory draws a smile from her. Sheâs an awful ninja now.
âNot really. I mean, yeah, everythingâs fine,â she hurriedly adds, when his brows furrow in concern, âI just⌠I miss my sister.â
He relaxes a bit, taking a step toward her.
âLaurel, right?â He asks softly, and she pauses, combing through her memories.
âYeah, how did you-â The reality hits her, even as the words slip out, and she swallows the end of the sentence. His expression is low and serious as he grabs a metal chair, scooting it closer to her.
âI may not be much for watching the news, Sara, but Iâd never forget a face like yours.â His words are teasing, but the meaning hits her square in the chest. All along, heâs known. Shame fills her, and she drops her gaze to the floor.
âIâm sorry. I should have told you.â She murmurs, tracing absent patterns on the ground with the point of her shoe.
âPretty sure âPainful Backstoryâ wasnât on the job application.â
âIâm adopted,â he interrupts, and she pauses, thrown.
He chuckles, but it isnât a happy sound, and she lifts her head to study him. Heâs avoiding her eyes now, watching her foot move across the floor.
âMy father-my birth father-was a criminal. But that wasnât the worst of it. No, see, he wanted me to be like him. Lisa, too, once she was born. He tried to train us, and when we didnât learn fast enough⌠He punished us.â Still refusing to meet her eyes, he pushes up one of his sleeves, revealing a patchwork of scars from his shoulder to his elbow.
Words stick in her throat, as she starts to reach out to him, then lets her hand fall back to her side. The phone lay, forgotten, on her lap, as she listens.
âHe was arrested, of course. Idiot couldnât wait a week to sell the score.â He scoffs, continuing, âThe cop who arrested him was fresh out of the Academy, just married, and on the fast track to becoming detective.â
He shakes his head, and clears his throat, as if trying to wash all of the confessions from the air.
âIf Officer West hadnât adopted Lisa and I, we could have ended up just like my father. So, I get that there are some things you donât really feel like talking about.â
His words hang in the air, and Sara struggles to breathe. Briefly, her mind flashes back to that first day, meeting him.
âDid he teach you how to make hot cocoa? The cop, I mean?â He blinks, before a small but genuine grin flashes across his face.
âNo, I learned that one on my own. Have you talked to her at all since you moved out here?â
It takes her a moment for her to realize who heâs referring to, even as he gestures to the phone.
âNot really, no. Before I left, she said some⌠Things. She was angry, you know, and I⌠I donât even know where to start.â
She picks up the forgotten device, rolling it over it her hands.
âStart with âhello,ââ He says, and sheâd think it was sarcasm, but his voice is dead-serious.
Could it be that simple? She opens the phone, pulling up Laurelâs contact. Her finger hovers over the green button, and Leonard slowly starts to slip out of the room.
âWill you-â She hesitates, wondering if itâs too much to ask. âCan you stay? With me? I just⌠I donât want to do this alone.â
âYou donât have to.â Heâs by her side in an instant, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder.
She shoots him a grateful look, and presses âcall.â
She swallows hard, and he squeezes her shoulder reassuringly.
Of course Laurel isnât answering. Her eyes burn with tears, and she furiously tries to wipe them away with the hand not holding the phone.
âHey, this is Laurel. Please leave a message after the-Sara, stop it!â
Sara swallows a startled laugh, blinking in disbelief. Theyâd recorded that⌠A week before Sara went on the Gambit. She canât even remember what sheâd been doing, why Laurel was screeching at her, but sheâs sure it was something harmless, like stealing her clothes, or her eyeliner.
âHey, Laurel, I-â her voice catches, and she fights the urge to curse. Tears are trickling down her cheeks, and it feels like a lump has settled in her throat, blocking the words inside.
Leonardâs hand grounds her, warm and steady, his thumb brushing back and forth on her shoulder.
âI just wanted you to know that-I miss you. And Iâm sorry. And-I love you. Please, call me.â She presses âend callâ, dropping her phone back to her lap, and burying her face in her hands.
âHey,â Leonard murmurs, stepping around her, catching her hands with his own. âYou did great.â
She raises her head, eyes locking with his. Heâs so earnest, free of any of his usual sarcasm, and she canât help but smile in return.
âYou really think so?â
He nods, squeezing her hands.
They fall silent, and for the first time, she notices how close they are. Heâs right in front of her, hands still clasping hers, and she can feel his breath on her face.
His eyes widen suddenly, and he lets go, clearing his throat.
âIf you argue with me, I might have to fire you,â he adds, eyes sparkling.
The moment passes, and she smiles, wiping her eyes. He hesitates, before telling her, âLisa can work a little longer. Whenever youâre ready.â
She nods, and he disappears through the doorway.
Her hand goes to her shoulder almost absently, tracing the spot heâd held minutes before.
âWhat are your thoughts on lasagna?â
Sara blinks, fingers stilling on the ties of her apron.
Itâs the end of the day, almost a week since their moment in the office, and heâs mostly been avoiding her since then.
Still, she considers his question, turning to face him.
âDepends on whoâs making it.â
His hands are resting in his pockets, looking utterly relaxed, but she knows him better now. His shoulders are tense, and thereâs something in the set of his jaw that worries her.
âMy father. Well,â he corrects himself, âadoptive, but thee only one who counts.â Apparently, her confusion shows on her face, because he continues. âHeâs making dinner for the whole family, and⌠He was hoping youâd join us. Lisa will be there, of course, and Mick always comesâŚâ
Heâs nervous, she realizes, a grin spreading across her lips. Adorably so, if the uncharacteristic rambling is anything to go by.
It should feel like too much, being invited to her bossâs family dinner, (especially with the memory of his lips inches from hers still fresh in her mind,) but somehow, her answer comes easily.
âIâll be there. Just tell me when and where.â
His whole face lights up as he grins back at her, before schooling his expression into something a bit calmer.
âOf course.â He grabs a notepad from his desk, scribbling down the details, and hands the note to her.
âSee you then,â he announces, and she realizes heâs about to leave. She doesnât even consider her next words before they fly from her lips.
âCan you give me a hand with this?â She gestures to the apron, and he blinks, tilting his head to the side uncertainly. âLisa tied it for me, and I canât seem to get it free.â
He chuckles a bit at that, relaxing. âOf course.â He gestures for her to turn, and she does, steadying herself when she senses him stepping forward.
She canât feel his touch, of course-canât feel much of anything besides the light pressure on her stomach, as he pulls the apron closer to himself-but sheâs all too aware of his warmth.
Finally, he steps back, and the apron falls in her hands.
âThanks,â she murmurs, and he nods.
âSee you tonight,â he answers, just as softly.
She likes his family, she decides.
Itâs larger than she expects, but each and every one of them greet her like theyâve known her forever.
His adoptive sister, Iris, actually flings her arms around her as soon as she sees her.
âOh, my gosh, Iâm so glad you could make it.â She appoints herself Saraâs hostess, grabbing her by the arm and introducing her to her brother, Wally, her father, Joe, and âLeonardâs brother, Barry.â Saraâs a bit confused by that, but lets it slide, in favor of debating which seat she should take.
She ends up seated by Leonard, of course, but somehow, it isnât the least bit uncomfortable.
At least, through most of the meal. As they start to munch on dessert, (chocolate cake that positively melts on Saraâs tongue,) Iris clears her throat.
âSeriously, Sara, Iâm glad you came.â
âYeah,â Wally jokes. âThe way Len talks about you, I was starting to think he was making you up.â
The chatter of the room falls silent, and Saraâs uncomfortably aware of the fact that all eyes are now on her and Leonard, but all she can focus on are the words.
The way Len talks about youâŚ
âWally,â Iris hisses, and Wally has the decency to look sheepish.
âSorry! I didnât realize she didnât know-â
âKnow what?â It takes her a moment to recognize her own voice, shaky and thin.
Itâs ridiculous, really, especially after everything lately, but somehow, sheâs still blindsided.
He talks to his family about me.
Not just in passing, but enough for them to meet me with hugs, like they already know me.
And âthe way he talksâ about me?
Wally hesitates, clearly regretting the hole heâs dug himself-and Leonard-into, but after a moment, sighs.
âKnow that heâs absolutely crazy about you.â
Leonardâs fork hits his plate with a clank, and Sara spares him a glance, even though she thinks she may pass out any second.
She canât remember the last time anyone was crazy about her. With Oliver, she knows, she was just a tool. A way to sabotage his relationship with Laurel without actually dumping her.
Honestly, she canât even imagine what his family is suggesting, but his jaw is tense, and heâs studying his plate, avoiding her eyes.
âI think-I think I need to go home.â Her voice sounds hollow to her own ears, and it scratches at her mind that Leonard brought her here.
âIâll drive you,â Lisa offers, and she nods gratefully.
She needsâŚ. Lots of things.
For all of this to make sense.
She isnât the girl people go crazy about.
Sheâs the one they settle for.
Sheâs the one who stole her sisterâs boyfriend and broke up her family.
Sheâs the one his eyes follow all the way out his door.
Somehow, work stays almost normal. Neither Lisa nor Mick bring up the disastrous dinner, though she can feel their eyes on her, wanting to say something. (Mostly Lisaâs. Mickâs not big on feelings talks, and Sara absently marvels at the fact that he has the most stable relationship of all of them; he and his girlfriend, Amaya, have been together for over a year, and Lisaâs mentioned that heâs started looking at rings.)
Leonard doesnât approach her, but he isnât exactly avoiding her, either.
Heâs lingering to the sides, waiting for her to deal with this on her own terms.
She knows he wonât push, but she almost wishes he would, because she doesnât know what itâll take for her to process this, but she knows if he kissed her, she wouldnât stop him.
Still, he stays back, and she continues to wait for an unknown answer.
It comes in a most unexpected form: Laurel Lance, settled into one of the faded booths, when Sara starts her shift.
Her breath catches in her throat, tears already threatening to fall.
Laurel never returned her call, or sent as much as a text, and for a moment, Sara considers running back and begging Lisa to take this one.
However, Lisa has a date, and Saraâs tired of running away.
She takes a deep breath, and makes her way to her sister.
Laurelâs face is buried in the menu, and sheâs oblivious to Saraâs presence, so Sara clears her throat.
âWelcome to Lennyâs Burgers! May I take your order?â Her voice doesnât even crack, she notes, pride welling in her.
Laurel lifts her head, and for several seconds, Sara would swear her heart doesnât beat. Then, she nearly jumps to her feet, and Sara is engulfed in a warm, solid hug.
âSara,â Laurel⌠Sobs. Thereâs no other word for it. Sara gives into her own tears, burying her face in Laurelâs shoulder.
âIâm so sorry,â she whispers. âI never should have gone with him. I never should have-â
âShhh, shhh, shh, hey, itâs okay. Itâs okay.â
âNo!â She insists. âItâs not! I-â
The two cling to each other, Laurel stroking Saraâs hair, like she would when they were children, and Sara had a nightmare.
This feels sort of like that, like she just woke up from a bad dream, and reality seems too good to be real.
âDonât you hate me?â She breathes, and Laurel stills, pulling back slightly. (Sara has to fight a bit of panic at the action.)
âOf course not! Youâre my sister, and I love you.â
Now she knows what sheâs been waiting for.
âOf course, Iâm still mad,â Laurel adds, unaware of her sisterâs revelation, âbut I forgive you. I donât want to lose you, Sara. Especially not over Oliver Queen. He isnât worth that.â
âHe isnât,â Sara agrees, a grin spreading across her lips without her consent. She surges forward, catching Laurel in another crushing hug her sister returns.
Finally, she pulls back, gesturing for Laurel to sit.
âSo, tell me, what have you been up to? Howâs dad? Why are you in Central City? How did you find this pace?â
Laurel laughs, slipping back into the booth, shaking her head.
âSlow down! Okay, first off, dadâs great. He wasnât doing well in Starling-â a tug of guilt settles squarely in Saraâs stomach, but Laurel plows on- âSo heâs getting a job on the force here in Central. Thatâs what weâre doing here. Heâs going to be working with a⌠Detective West, I think?â
A laugh bubbles up from Saraâs lips, a bit hysterical, but she doesnât care.
Of course, out of all of the people her dad could have been assigned to work with, it would be Leonardâs father.
 âWait, so, heâs moving to Central? What about you?â
Laurel grins, grabbing her arms from across the table.
âWeâre moving here, Sara. Weâre moving in with you and move. If youâre both okay with that,â she adds, a touch uncertainly. âDadâs talking to Mom right now, and she said I could probably find you here, and-â
Sara doesnât squeal, but itâs a close thing, as she stands, tugging Laurel to her feet.
âThereâs some people I want you to meet,â she insists, nearly dragging her back to the kitchen.
Laurel follows, confusion etched across her face.
Everyoneâs in the kitchen. Lisa and Leonard are talking in low tones, as Mick puts something in the fryer. All eyes turn to her, curiosity flickering at the figure behind her.
She knows she should explain, knows she should introduce them and make some pleasantries, but Leonard is staring at her like-like he always does, she realizes, but sheâs ready now, and she canât-she doesnât want to wait.
Eyes firmly fixed on his, she takes one step forward, then another. Heâs leaning back against the wall, but now he rises to his full height, head tilting to the side cautiously.
âWhat are you doing?â he asks softly, a bit uncertainly. Instead of answering, she grabs his collar, pulling him down to her. Her lips press against his, and for a moment, he goes absolutely still.
Then, she tilts her head to the side, and his arms come around her, one hand sinking into her hair, as the other settles at her waist. His lips are moving almost frantically against hers, as if he expects her to vanish any moment.
âApparently, Iâve missed a lot,â Laurel quips, and Saraâs face flushes, pulling back slightly. Leonard grins down at her, hope shining in his eyes, and sheâs sure she looks the same way.
âLeonard, Lisa, Mick, this is my sister, Laurel. Laurel⌠This is the rest of my family.â
Hopefully you enjoyed! <3 Happy Valentineâs Day! Iâll try to post this on AO3 tomorrow. :)